


Living After You

by sp580s



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: And pressure, Because grief, But mostly okay, Gen, Is this really the best way though?, Robot, See You Again, Sequel, Stress, coping with loss, little crazy, things are getting better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-24 23:51:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14964605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp580s/pseuds/sp580s
Summary: After Blue Leader died, Red Leader wasn't quite the same. He talked to himself more, lost weight, and trusted no one like he had his second. But some things never change….Sequel to my storySee You Again(2599 words); reading it isn't nessesary to understand, but would certainly help.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I reformatted this to suit my needs, so there's no new content as of yet, simply more properly arranged. Formerly called "Life After Death".

****Late nights, so many of those recently. Tord’s tired mind whirled in circles as he worked, like the screws he used to fasten the pieces of his latest project together. A sharp knock sounded at the door, but he ignored it. To reply would be to interrupt his conversation with himself, the only way he could organize thoughts anymore. He talked himself through even the most basic procedures now, his thin hand working alongside the mech hand to assemble his latest project. Four previous prototypes had failed in various ways, but this one he had some hope for. He also had the perfect name for it. Th0ma5.


	2. Life After Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tord and Th0ma5 go about business as usual. Except, Tom has some questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this was just reformatted to suit me better, there's no new content (yet, maybe ever but I can hope)

“Red Leader,” it was more of a statement than a question from the gently accented voice, “I brought you supper.”

Tord looked at the small analogue clock on his work bench. It was almost midnight. “It's not supper time anymore Tom.”

“I know sir, but you didn't wake up until nearly noon after passing out last night, so it's basically the right time for you,” his voice was cheerful despite the late hour, unphased by Tord's apparent annoyance. He waved Tom over, watching as the tray of food was set before him. He couldn't help but feel a wave of satisfaction at the smooth balanced movements. Tom truly was a marvel. Tord watched him walk around the lab for a few moments before turning his attention to the still warm food before him. He'd relaxed about the need to supervise him constantly, though Tom was rarely far anyway; he was vital to Tord’s work.

Something clinked softly as it hit Tord’s desk and he looked up from his half finished meal. A small, chill wave passed through him as he stared first at the blank visor with its exposed wires, then the one with softly glowing green eyes.

“What is this?” Tom asked.

Tord swallowed hard and set aside his plate. He thought a moment then replied, “That's what I based your eyes on.”

He watched Tom warily as he lifted the long dead technology, turning it slowly in his hands as he studied it. “This is for a biological enhancement, not-”

“Yes, it was a biological enhancement. The wearer went blind, but still wanted to work in the army.”

“Who was the wearer?”

The question stung and surprised him; Tom wasn't usually this inquisitive. “He was a good soldier, you and I have visited his grave many times. He was my second in command.”

Tom seemed to think about this before nodding. He turned, obviously going to return the goggles to their place on the cluttered shelves. Tord started to call a command to halt him but couldn't bring himself to speak. He went back to eating, knowing Tom would put it back exactly where he found it. He was so good about that.

As he ate, his eyes wandered back to the hastily drawn plans beside him. Between bites he muttered to himself about positioning, awkwardly revising the drawing with his left hand while his right kept him fed. He felt full but knew Tom wouldn't let him leave before he cleaned the plate. Something about needing to gain some weight in order to return to the optimal BMI. When both the meal and sketches were finished, Tord looked up to see Tom standing right infront of his desk silently.

“How long have you been there?”

“Fifty three minutes, seventeen seconds.”

Tord sighed and rubbed his eyes, “Why didn't you say something?”

“You were talking to yourself, I didn't want to interrupt.”

“That's your job though. You know I'd much rather talk to you instead of myself.”

“Sorry sir, I'll do better,” the way he trailed off set Tord’s mind on a wandering path to decipher the reason. Thankfully he didn't have to; Tom spoke up hesitantly, “My mind was elsewhere. The owner of those eyes, he was your second, but you don't have a second.”

The question was obvious, “Anymore. After him I realized I didn't need one.” The small fib seemed harmless. “I have you and I have Paul and Patryck. I don't need anyone directly below me with you three around to sort of share the role.”

“I didn't realize I was on equal standing with them.”

Tord gave a small, mischievous grin and leaned closer, as if he was about to confide a great secret, “Between you and me, you're probably a little higher since they aren't allowed in here.” He chuckled, and, after a moment, Tom joined him.

 

The next morning, Tom was nowhere to be found. Breakfast was set out beside Tords bed as usual, but the bearer of it usually waited in the chair nearby. Perhaps one of his other tasks had been deemed more important today? Tord still had trouble understanding how Tom processed some things.

After eating he slid on his signature helm, and Red Leader set about his own daily tasks. He had added a low decibel filter to his helm, making his muttering not project through like speaking at a normal volume would. He had received too many questioning looks, the doubt in him forming after the incident had become all too clear. Things were back to normal now; Tom's arrival had rekindled faith in Red Leader's abilities.

Later, in his office, a familiar voice spoke from the doorway, “Thomas.”

Red Leader looked up. “Yes, that's your name. What of it?”

“I visited the grave again today, focusing on the details. Like his name. I also used it to go through the army's archive, I saw things like pictures of him.”

Tord sighed and waved his hand, “Shut the door. I can see you have some questions.”

Tom complied and walked to the chair infront of the desk. He sat down in it, lounging leisurely despite the uncomfortable surface. Both of them were so good at that. He looked expectantly at Red Leader, with an attentiveness his predecessor would've never shown. Red Leader removed his helmet, then sighed, “Go on and ask. There's too much to tell in one go without some direction.”

Tom thought a moment. Slowly he began to speak, “I… know what I am. I believe the whole army does, though I have never told them,” Tord nodded, and Tom continued, “But I don't know who I am. I know my purpose, my duties, and I know how I feel about many things, but how much is me and how much is,” he trailed off, seeming a little frustrated, “ Him . I'm not just some A.I. am I? Very little of my personality is organic isn't it? My tasks, my protocols, they're his habits right?”

The sudden barrage of questions flew mostly over Tord’s head. He was shocked that Tom even cared about such things. He spoke slowly and carefully, “No A.I. is organic, all need a seed of personality to help shape their function. What was once his habits became something I grew used to, and no one else stepped up to fill that role. You are still an individual, even if you are based on someone now dead.”

Tom listened, but he didn't hide his emotions as well as his inspiration had. Dissatisfaction twisted his mouth and his glowing eyes wouldn't meet his creator’s. “Alright,” he said, “Thank you sir. I'll get back to my tasks now.”

He rose and left without being dismissed, very like him. Tord leaned back in his chair as he watched him go. He felt unsettled, like he had just seen some disturbing footage of hostage treatment or a failed tactical maneuver. Was this one a failure too? So far T0ma5 had seemed perfect, filling his role with supreme accuracy. Perhaps some memory cleaning was in order. But, if this happened once, it was bound to happen again. Machines were reliable and only so many of the conditions could be changed. There had to be another way to fix this. A pounding at the door derailed his train of thought and he hastily slid his helm back on before giving permission to enter.

 

It wasn't until late that night as Red Leader made his way to his lab that he remembered his predicament. As he sat down in the well worn, familiar chair, he leaned back instead of forward. He stared at the ceiling with his helmet removed, and began to think through his options. His hands drew diagrams in the air vaguely, and his lips moved with half formed words. His mind wandered in wobbly circles, never quite following the same path, but often intersecting with old lines of thought. With a burst of inspiration, he leapt to his feet, running right into Tom. They both tumbled to the floor; Tom was sturdy but very light, a point of pride for Tord. Tom didn't struggle or move, to do so would risk injuring Tord, but for a moment the man didn't notice his safeguards. He stared excitedly into Tom's eyes with a massive grin, “I got it! I knew I would get it and I got it, I finally got it so good. This is going to be so good, and great. You're going to be just great.”

He panted, winded by the stream of excited babble while Tom just stared up at him quietly. Tord realized where they were and hastily stood, helping Tom up as well. They brushed themselves off and Tom looked at Tord, “Can you explain that more concisely?”

It was an automatic line, but it did it's job and Tord’s mind focused. “I figured out how to fix your little,” he waved his hand in a vague circle as he searched for the right word, “Glitch. I realized my mistake; I should've told you about the real Tom from the start. I should've let you study him, his mannerisms and the like, instead of just trying to replicate them on my own. Fortunately, it's not too late, and with a little practice, I think you can do it,” he grinned at his own genius.

Tom nodded, “I do have quite the capacity for learning, it sounds quite possible.”

Tord nodded once, “Yes,” he went quiet a moment as he recalled the logistics of the plan. “You'll be excused from all day time duties to study and practice in the combination you find most suitable. Within a month you should be right as rain, you yourself will become so closely linked to him, there won't be any more confusion. I'll arrange for all footage to be sent to you.”

Tom nodded again, though a spark of doubt flared in the back of his mind. He ignored it, his face only shifting for a moment to give any indication of his hesitancy. Tord was much too excited to notice, and Tom dove back into his regular protocol. He turned towards the work bench and tapped some scribbled diagrams littered with screws and metal scrap, “What's this?”

Tord sat back down and looked it over before replying, “I'm so glad you asked Tom.”


End file.
